A Path Not Taken
by Gloria Underhill
Summary: The is the story of characters who would have made choices so that even had Duncan even been at the right place they would not have. This is a story of what happens to these could be wardens through civil war and the blight.


The Path Not Taken

AN: the following is a preface, not an authors note. It is not necessary to read and future AN's will not be that long. Happy reading.

Preface: All the way back when I started playing origins, I noticed things my characters, or the characters as I formed them in my mind, would have done differently. Things which, had Duncan even been at the right place, would have ended with said characters not getting recruited. These character formations had to be altered to play the game in any way that made sense, but my creative urges kept them alive in my mind and I thought, "Hey... Fanfiction!" This was made irresistible when I realized that one of these formations _as it formed_ within the origin _itself_ was absolutely possible and definable _within the game world itself_.

Anyway, this is not a story of all wardens getting recruited, it's the story of one warden, _barely_ recruited, and the others who would have been, had things been different. It is their individual adventures through blight and civil war, in one mash-up. The stories start a bit pre-origin, appear roughly chronological, and I'm not going to retell in-game scenes unless they would be significantly altered by my characters.

* * *

Chapter 1: Darrian Tabris : "Killing a guard is a bad idea."

Darrian Tabris leaned against the corner of a building, his hood down, his dark, mossy green eyes regarding the activity of the docks as he waited for his partner, his short burgundy curls blew in the breeze off of the ocean from the docks just a few blocks away.

"Heard you got a matchmaker." Falar, the elven youth Darrian had been waiting for, walked up behind him, from the alley.

"I'm not getting married." Darrian glared toward the docks, "Not yet, not to some girl I've never met."

"...I don't know," Falar was making adjustments to his blackened helmet, "you can get a good one with a matchmaker."

Darrian scowled but remained silent. He had tried to convince his father to put off the search for a wife for him until he had a regular job, something to show a potential's family, a reason to for him stay in Denerim. And time for him to find a girl on his own.

His father wouldn't hear waiting any longer, Darrian was good looking, physically sound, and bright. But he was getting older, another year and they would wonder what was wrong with him. According to his father he just needed to give up a bit of his pride, and he'd keep a job.

"Come on," He straightening up, "lets get a drink." he turned and headed toward The Laid Low Tavern to wait for nightfall.

* * *

It had long been dark when two elven youths ran through the streets of the noble quarter of Denerim. Dressed dark, heads covered, they darted from one shadow to the next, expertly avoiding the patrolling city guards. When they reached the estate that was their destination, Darrian signaled Falar to pause.

He crouched in the shadows, observing with all his strength. The house was dark and silent. The family was out of town. Being unusually cheap they had let go of all their elven servants and most of the humans, leaving only two to run the estate in their absence. Word was they had also left few guards behind. Darrian was counting on the tendency of people to slack off when the boss was away, coupled with the meanness of their lord and few fellows for company. He signaled Falar to follow as he ran up the shadowed path around to the back of the castle like home. The gardens were broad and relatively bright in the moonlight. The servants and guards would most likely remain on the first floor, hanging out in the kitchen or sleeping in their quarters. The safest route would be to enter through a second story window. Luckily, a smaller garden wall cornered up to a promising entrance.

Darrian smiled at Falar and indicated the window. Falar gulped but nodded. Darrian ran up the corner, stepping from one rough stone surface to the next until he swung himself up to kneel on the small wall, then hopped to the open window. Falar followed, with less grace, and Darrian grabbed him to prevent his falling back to the ground. He pulled Falar through the window and paused to listen and let his eyes adjust. The bright moonlight aided their progress, and it was fortunate that the nobles bedrooms were usually on the second floor and at the back of the house. As silently as possible, Darrian opened one promising door. Moonlight filtered in past the drapes revealing a neat but sparse room, likely a guest room then. Still there would often be something of value stashed away in the vanity. He moved silently over the plush rug grabbing any small shiny thing he came across and stuffing them into a purse on his belt. There wasn't much here.

A sudden commotion drew his attention to the door where Falar stood, a crumpled guard at his feet. He was looking around the corner, down the hall, "Tabris! Guards!"

Darrian swore under his breath and ran to stand beside Falar, three more humans, not armored but well armed were rounding a corner, ready to fight.

"Out!" Darrian shot toward the window he had entered through, and jumped on the ledge, hopped to the wall, and down on the ground he ran for the shadows at the edge of the garden. Falar was right behind him as he managed to slip out of the gates of the estate just before the off duty guards burst from the front door to raise the alarm.

Two elven youths ran through the streets of the noble quarter of Denerim. Dressed dark, heads covered, they darted from one corner to the next, desperately seeking ever deeper shadows until they nearly ran into the wall that marked the alienage, the home of the elves within the city's, the gates were long since closed, but they weren't trying to get home now. With the grace of the long practiced they clung to the stone work and climbed, squirrel like, and, cat like, slunk low across the top, following its path to drop in the alleys of another neighborhood, clear of the city guards now scouring the wide streets of the rich part of town. They now had more shadows, closer alleys, narrower streets in which to hide.

Silent in their movements, continued their hyper-vigilant stealth until they dodged into a run-down old house in an alley off the docks.

Darrian ripped his hood from his head, panting, and glared at his companion, "Killing a guard is a bad idea. It's a terrible idea to kill one in front of more guards," he seethed, and nearly yelled the rest, "And shouting my name is just stupid!"

Falar looked sheepish under his blackened helmet, "I didn't see the others, then I did, I had to warn you."

"You-" Darrian hissed, but was interrupted.

"Now boys," Derrick's voice was deep and gravelly, like a man who'd been hung once already, he walked into the small living area of the hovel carrying a candle, he was dark and disheveled, rough complected and unshaven, a human fence and a fatherly presence to those skirting the law, "Ya took 'im on Darrian, ya knew how he is."

"He's not the one they'll look for!" Darrian pointed behind him to Falar, who still wore his helmet and stood in silent shame.

"It's done," Derrick put the candle on the table in the middle of the room, "Did ya get anythin'?"

Darrian ran his hand through his hair, moved to the table and displayed the trinkets he'd managed to grab.

Derrick whistled, "You got right fucked with this one. Doubt it's 'nough to hide ya till it calms down." he looked him in the eye, "Might be 'nough to get ya to 'nother town, if yer careful."

Darrian shook his head, "I can't leave my family-"

"Ya'll do that anyhow, when they catch ya." Derrick took out his purse and put down a couple silvers, "I'm bein' generous, since I may not see ya for a while. Go to Agar, he'll get ya out, take most a what I gave ya, but he won't turn ya in."

Darrian took the money, he didn't see how the payment was especially generous, but he didn't have to argue and he didn't have the luxury of haggling. "Fine, good, thanks."

"Don't worry about Sula, Darrian, I'll-" Falar pipped up.

Darrian turned on him, pointing aggressively, "You'll stay away from her. I'm serious, if I hear-"

Falar put his hands up in a placating gesture, "I just-"

"Just don't." Darrian pushed past Falar on his way out the door, put up his hood and set out alone for Agars Outfitters.

* * *

"Traders headed for Amaranthine. Head out at first light." Agar was a large human, gruff and unsympathetic. Not that Darrian had expected him to be, or given him any reason to be. He had taken all but 10 coppers of Darrians money, but he now had supplies to last him a week, and a chance to get out of the city unseen, "Don't expect them to be thrilled, having another elf along."

"That's why I payed." Darren eyed the trader warily.

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Don't worry, you're in." Agar pocketed his coins and turned his back on him, "Just mind yourself, that's all. Don't be late, they won't wait."

Darrian crept out of the shop and made his way toward the city gates.

* * *

PS: Not recruited because, 1. ran away from wedding, or 2. was a thief and had to flee the city.


End file.
